Emiliano Mancilla

I have blurred, confusing memories of Sunday. The first thing I looked for when I opened my eyes was the pillow, which I had left on the side of my bed, expecting to find it full of this brown ochre color the blood gets when it dries, nevertheless, for my surprise I just found the common stains I was having in the past days. 

Had it just been a dreadful dream?

I turned my head and noticed there wasn’t anybody in the room but me. The curtains were open and the sunlight heated my skin in a detached way. Everything was feeling as ethereal as a clerk’s response to a “How was your weekend?” Question on a Monday morning. 

When I left the room everything was perturbingly calm, no sign of life at least on the second floor of the hostel. I walked through the hallway on my way to the bathroom and then I saw her again, smiling at me, the lady in the picture with that bombastic style of dress that looked from a specific place I had seen at least in the movies. I stood quiet as if I was waiting for her to talk to me, but nothing happened but a cold wind folding my back. There was a silence that reigned the building.

I suppose there wasn’t much to do, I was getting better with the pain, worried about my liver I forced myself to stop taking the ketorolac and just stick with the ibuprofen only when I couldn’t deal with the pain. And fortunately I only had to use it two times, where I felt an unbearable tension in the muscles of my jaw. It was a huge relief to notice this, as I was seriously thinking about going back to México to have a medical intervention.

It was my free day before starting my volunteering duties, which I noticed started the next day with a Russian girl named Darya as instructor. 

Back in Budapest I had a quick affair with a beautiful Russian girl named Kira. She had a beautiful smile, colorful flowered dresses, great knowledge about arts, and a vibrant energy that made you want to be with her partying all night. It was a pity she only stayed for 3 days, as she though I was cute and I liked to walk with her holding hands. I loved that she was a smart bully, and by that time I was pretty witty, which made things exciting. Also, I forgot to say, GREAT BOOBS. 

I celebrated my Mexican independence day by taking her to a Mexican restaurant, and remember that the next day after a boat party, we were kissing at the bar, laughing about how a French guy started talking to her, promising her that he was in the most expensive suite and that when she left with him she was going to finally get a “real French Kiss”. 

Just when we were ready to go to bed, this motherfucker charismatic Canadian (who didn’t have a chance), came and started talking to us (her) for like half an hour (it might have been 15 minutes but it felt like ages). And when we finally left and were about to take the tram, I didn’t feel her as motivated and she told me she was feeling tired and not as horny as I was. 

“Ahhh mother fucker! It was because of that fucking Canadian, he got you out of the mood, MOTHERFUCKER!” I was shouting furious, like a fucking animal in the middle of the street.

“No! I want to have sex with you!” She told me trying to calm me.

And then she me kissed more passionate than ever and everything was wonderful after. 

Her memory made me feel curious about meeting my new Russian Instructor. 

I fell asleep thinking about Kira and wondering Darya’s personality. A fade in of indecipherable murmurs interrupted the tranquility of my dreams, voices I had never heard before surrounded my auditive space, and when I opened my eyes, I was seated in the social room and all the volunteers were having a drink with some guests.

During the night I went with the latin girls to this bar called Tipsy Crawl, which was really good, thinking that one didn’t need to pay cover. I remember being there a few years ago when I went with my brother from another mother Oli, and a friendly Canadian biker who was offended by the fact that Mexicans needed to have a VISA in order to get into de States. The place was exactly as I remembered it. 

When we came back, I felt as if someone was observing me, and on my way to my room, my eyes met the pretty eyes of the lady in the painting. 

“Good night, beautiful” I told her, and I went to sleep. 

More murmurs woke me up in the middle of the night. When I turned my face I could notice a pale slim figure in front of the window, looking at the street. 

“Hey bro, you good?” I asked.